


At High Noon

by jemejem



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Cowboy au!, Gun slingin' booze drinkin' rootin' tootin' cowboys, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 15:37:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20099563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jemejem/pseuds/jemejem
Summary: Quick-Draw-Josten's found a good place for himself in this shitty lil' desert town, by Sheriff Day's side and in the Mid-desert Monster's bed.And you'd best believe he'll fight for it.





	At High Noon

“It was fuckin’ loose, man.” Nicky slammed the bar hard enough that Neil was sure it’d crack. If it weren’t Nicky. “Wild!”

He was kinda scrawny. Truly scrawny, really. Neil couldn’t talk as he was barely taller than some of the kids he encountered, but at least he’d worked on some muscle from living alone for so long. Swinging barrels, lugging horses, anything that’d get some gold in his pocket. 

“I’m sure it was,” Wymack drawled, shining another glass and shoving it back onto the shelf. It wobbled, almost toppling over the edge, but stilled in the nick of time. 

“Nicky! Hasn’t it been a while!” 

Neil turned: The group that greeted him were strangers, but scarily overbearing and friendly ones. The man was enormous, with his hat askew and hair sticking out in spiked tufts from underneath it. On his arm was a woman dressed in men’s garb, and following them through the door were two ladies, far more appropriately dressed. 

“Dan, Matt!” Nicky crowed, getting up from his seat and stumbling over to the newcomers. Or oldcomers, Neil supposed. He was glad Nicky’d left his drink at the bar, for it’d probably be sloshed all over the floor: Nicky’d wake up glass shards in his eye, and he’d whine to Neil about it endlessly whilst rounding up the cattle tomorrow morn. 

“Not going to take his drink, bandit?”

Neil gazed over his shoulder with a leer. “Don’t drink, ‘Drew. You know this.”

“Not here you don’t.” He flicked a towel at Neil, which he evaded easily, before stalking away. The man always retreated, muttering under his breath when Neil called him ‘Drew. Andrew was probably one of the most fearsome fugitives known out in this district, but here he was untouched: Kevin Day, the town’s new sheriff, owed the man his life, and thus he could live out his life in relative peace, cleaning glasses and serving pints of beer to the Foxhole’s irregular clientele.

Some said he killed four men. Others say he burned down orphanages for fun. Neil was pretty sure there were worse things, or maybe Andrew had a reason. It was this strange optimism that Neil had around the man that’d kept Andrew’s interest.

“Andrew!” Dan called. “Wymack! We’re here!”

“Great.” Andrew grunted, shovelling out drinks where he could see empty fists. 

One of the ladies, far more modestly dressed than the other with simple grey petticoats and a plain white blouse, leaned onto the bar by Neil’s side. “And how is Aaron?”

“Over in the big city, now.” Andrew said, serving the woman a bitters and fishing out ice from the kitchen’s coolbox. Andrew didn’t just give ice to no one: With a slight nudge, he pushed an iced glass of water towards Neil.

“It’s lovely to see you, Andrew.” The woman smiled, leaning closer. 

“Likewise, Renee.” Andrew turned to look at Renee’s company. “Though I wish you wouldn’t insist on going around with such exemplars of embarrassment.”

Sometimes Andrew spoke with a conviction and literacy that was of an academic, of someone from higher places. Yet here they were, in the Foxhole, with more rat-baits and scummy low-lifes than bottles of beer. Neil let his head rest on his fist as he gazed upon Andrew’s features, the furrowed brow, the scar across his chin. 

“You know how fond I am of them.” Renee said warmly, before gazing over to where ‘Dan’ had ‘Matt’ in a headlock, spinning her shotgun around on her finger as he struggled in her grip. “How has it been?”

“Slow. What progress have you made on the Moriyama trail?”

“Andrew,” Wymack murmured. “Quiet.”

Andrew eyed Neil. “The only one who can hear us is the one who hates them most of all.”

Neil smiled behind his glass before tipping his hat. He and Wymack had never had a conversation on the Moriyamas, but their shitty trade routes and scams were a rather open secret. It was their mercenary business, whilst known to few, that truly irked many’s ire, and Neil was one of them.

His father was the Butcher, after all. Whilst most dealt with their quarrels out in the midst of dusty alleyways, guns pointed at high noon, Neil’s father took his enemies’ axes and knives and took all day ’n’ night carving them up. 

He was fearsome and feared, but Quick-Draw Josten had bested Nathan Wesninski at his own game a few moons ago, and now the Moriyamas had his face scrawled across _WANTED_ posters upon every board.

Once upon a time, he’d worked with the Moriyamas as a mercenary long enough to earn that title. Perhaps not as highly statused as Kevin Day was, but it was something more than nothing.

“We’ll discuss later.” Renee said. “In the quiet of dawn. I’ll catch you for a morning ride?” She grinned. “Is Bee still up for a canter?”

Andrew rolled his eyes. His horse was prized, despite getting on in years. It was almost as fast as Stu, Neil’s own mare, of which was why Neil’d found himself in the Foxhole’s corner. Neil was faster, but Andrew was smarter, and he’d needed more than speed to escape.

Lucky for him, Palmetto, its Foxhole and its residents had carved Neil a little spot, a little place he could call home in the vast, dry expanses of the desert. A small oasis in the bleak life of a runaway.

“Alright.” Andrew murmured. “Dusk. But Neil comes.”

“Of course,” Renee smiled. She had a perfect set of teeth, a near impossible thing out here in the middle of nowhere. “Enjoy your evening, Andrew.”

Neil waited at the tavern for Andrew, despite his open expressions of irritation. He hated it when Neil ‘inconvenienced himself’ for Andrew, even though being walked home by Andrew was definitely no inconvenience. He enjoyed himself in the meantime, acquainting himself with Palmetto’s old-comers. It seemed that Allison and Renee were affectionate of each other, in that forbidden way that Neil was familiar with.

The sheriff of Palmetto arrived with a cheer and a toast, tipping his hat with respect. He didn’t stop to reacquaint himself with those who’d returned from the road until he’d stopped by Neil’s side. 

“Riko plans to stop by.” He murmured. “I can’t go ‘round killin’ with this shiny badge on my chest no more.”

Neil understood Kevin’s tone, even if he didn’t want to. Riko was largely considered the most dangerous rider there was: Tales of the towns he’d ransacked with his Ravens spread far and wide. “I’ll put him to rest.”

Kevin closed his eyes. There was a bullet hole through his left hand, his shooting hand, from his last intermission with the Moriyama man. Neil was good, but was he good enough to best him? 

“Alright.” He said, tugging on the strap of Neil’s suspenders. “Don’t do nothin’ stupid, Josten.”

Neil merely winked. 

Kevin saluted him in favour of greeting the returnees. Neil turned to the bar and avoided Andrew’s insistent gaze, sipping at his water and studying the wood grain of the bar’s surface. 

By the time the tavern closed, he’d forced himself to forget all about Riko Moriyama and his leers ’n’ sneers. The candles were blown out, wicks straightened and bottles locked up, just as  
Wymack settled all the stools upon their tables. 

“Go ‘ome.” He threatened Andrew with the end of his broom. “I’ve had enough of you ’n’ your lot for the rest of my short existence.”

“We’ll be back tomorrow,” Neil promised, letting himself be lead outside by Andrew’s hand.

He and Andrew scuffed the dirt and sand under their heels as they lead their horses home, under the shimmering display of stars in the sky. Oil lamps that lined the street somewhat blotted their glow, dimmed further by a near full moon.

Outside Neil’s small abode - a single room, with good water and a proper thread mattress - he tied up Stu to his post and pumped some water into his trough. Andrew watched with a keen eye, handle of his shotgun glinting in the moonlight from where it peaked out of its holster. He’d taken off his hat - Neil knew he liked how the midnight breeze wafted through his long hair. The blonde locks were soft - Neil had played with them on occasion, when they had ridden out to distant oases for reprieve from the scorching summer sun.

Andrew was so incredibly gorgeous, laying on the shores of blissfully cool lagoons, cleaning glasses behind a candle-lit bar, standing in the moonlight, drawing a barrel onto a threat in the middle of the street.

Though Neil didn’t require the slight height advantage, he still leaned over the porch’s rickety railing to grin down at Andrew. “Thank you for walking me home.”

“It’s the courteous thing to do.” Andrew muttered. 

“Courting me, are we?” Neil leaned further. If Andrew only gazed up at him, he’d be able to risk a kiss to the Mid-Desert Monster’s forehead. There was no one around. It was safe. 

“Your wit is almost as quick as your draw.” Andrew drawled, creasing his boot’s newly refurbished leather buckles when he leaned up to Neil. 

Neil risked a whisper to the shell of Andrew’s ear. “I know you prefer my mattress to your own. Bee and Stu will get along fine.”

“Now you’re talking scandal, Josten.” He arched his delicate blonde brow. “Are you sure that the town won’t know?”

“Who is here to see?”

“It is not a matter of who sees. It’s a matter of who _hears._” 

Neil grinned, pulling Andrew by his suspenders through his screen-door and kicking it shut behind him. “It’s the wild west, ‘Drew. Someone’s always screaming.”

“For shame, Josten. For shame.”

*

The sun glimmered where it shone through the wooden boards across Neil’s window. He squinted, acknowledging his small home with mild irritation. He really should have put up some curtains to force out the sun: Now he was itching for a ride. 

Slowly, carefully, he untangled himself from Andrew’s grasp. They were both buck-ass naked still, but it was warm enough that it didn’t matter. Neil padded across the room, collecting the two sherry glasses and the almost empty bottle from the table and settling it by the sink. 

Andrew’s indistinct muttering caught his attention, Neil glancing over his shoulder to see the man rolling onto his back. He was still half-asleep. Andrew tucked away his booze almost as well as sheriff Day did, but it always had him sleeping deeply in the morning. 

Imagine the looks of horror at the sight of the Mid-Desert Monster, naked in another man’s bed. Neil smothered a fond smile and took coffee grounds and a filter, making enough for two mug-fulls. 

He peered out the window and took careful notice of the sun as he sipped his coffee, the bitterness invigorating and satisfying his hungry stomach. 

It was almost midday. Neil sighed. 

He’d much rather spend the rest of the day in nothing but his sheets, with Andrew by his side, but it was never a good idea to let a Moriyama wreak havoc without being challenged. 

Kevin Day had saved his life more than once, and Palmetto had given him a place to stay. He owed them this much. 

After dressing, he settled Andrew’s coffee by the bed and gently pressed his lips to the man’s forehead, careful not to press on the mattress in fear of startling him awake. 

“Thank you,” He murmured. “You were amazing.”

He snatched his holster from where he’d thrown it over the back of his dining chair, his hat from its hook upon the wall. The sun skimmed over the corrugated iron roofs of his neighbours, a warning from on-high. 

It was time.

**Author's Note:**

> i revamped this from my tumblr post lol because im lazy and not creative at all. 
> 
> credit goes to @requiemofkings and their amazing art that inspired this! also @still-waiting-for-godot's art is adorable too!
> 
> here, take a look:  
https://requiemofkings.tumblr.com/post/183537451795/howdy-partner-care-to-wet-ur-whistle-giddy-up-to  
https://requiemofkings.tumblr.com/post/186536378140/twitter-cowboy-doodles  
https://still-waiting-for-godot.tumblr.com/post/186413331274/yall-ever-hear-the-tale-of-quick-draw-josten-and


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